Not Caring
by Rachel McN
Summary: Do humans ever really care what damage and pain they cause? Rated 'T' for safety.


_I was in a really ... weird mood when I typed this. The way some humans act towards others kinda started me of on this. Plus I just like to torture charachters that don't belong to me. Heh. At least I don't have to pay for those characters medical bills..._

_--_

_Let me go, just let me go_

The blows kept coming.

They were relentless, merciless.

_Just let me go, please let me go_

He didn't know how long he'd been here.

He just knew he was in pain – agony.

_Stop, please make the pain stop_

Terrified, he huddled further into a foetal position.

His hands and legs were bound.

He couldn't escape.

He wouldn't have had the strength to anyway.

_It hurts, oh shell it hurts_

He'd tried to protect his brother.

Where was his brother?

Had they taken him too?

Were they hurting him right now?

Or had they killed him?

_Please no more, I can't take it_

_Make the pain stop_

_Someone please make the pain stop_

Where was his brother?

He wanted to see him.

He had to see him.

Had to know his brother was alright.

Where was he?

He cried out as he felt a sword connect with the flesh of his unprotected side.

His captors stood back, watching with cold, dead eyes as their prisoner squirmed in agony before them.

He was allowed all of one second to rest.

Then they were back.

Kicking, punching, attacking him relentlessly.

_Stop the pain, please just make the pain stop_

They ignored his pain filled cries, only increasing their blows in response.

_I'm going to die here_

_Please, I don't want to die like this – in pain, please_

A sharp order was barked, and his attackers immediately responded.

The relentless agonising blows ceased, and all of the men bowed before the approaching figure.

The figure strode forward, and he narrowed his eyes trying to view the dead weight dragged behind the figure.

As the figure approached, his dead weight began to struggle and move, kicking out feebly – it was alive – though for how long was anyone's guess.

_No, please no_

The dead weight passed beneath a moon beam from the shattered shutters above.

Its skin was shaded green.

_No, not my brother_

_Please not my brother_

The figure didn't seem to appreciate his struggling captive.

The figure lashed out quickly, and an agonised scream pierced the air, splitting the night time sky.

_No, please no_

_Don't hurt him_

_I give in, you can do what you want to me_

_Just don't hurt him, please_

_I'll do anything_

The now cooperating weight was dragged closer to him, pulled along by the imposing figure.

He desperately sought eye contact with the figure's dragging weight.

He caught the focus of the dark brown eyes, and felt himself stiffen.

This agony was worse than what he had been experiencing moments before.

Much worse.

He could read the terror in the eyes, the pure unhidden fear of the captive.

_No, please_

The figure stopped a few feet away, his eyes dancing behind his mask.

It wasn't a dance of friendliness; the figures eyes danced the dance of death.

The captive weight moved as if to try and reach him, but the figure stopped the pathetic attempt with a sharp tug on the rope around the captive's neck.

His brother was bound as he was; arms and legs tied cruelly, the thin wires biting into flesh.

The captive struggled, gasping for air against the tightened rope around its air pipe.

The captive – the figures dead weight – his brother.

_Please, I'll do whatever you want, just please don't hurt him anymore_

_Anything, I'll do anything_

The figure motioned with his hand, and his men gathered around him.

He couldn't drag his eyes away from his brothers, from the moisture that was beginning to drown the beautiful brown.

Eye contact was shattered when the figure once more pulled roughly on the rope causing another bout of struggling cries to come from his brother as he fought for air.

The figure was staring at him, and horror coursed through his veins as he realized what the figure meant to do.

The malice that the figure emanated chilled him to the very core of his bones.

_No, oh god, please no_

The figure was staring at him, and he found himself held in place by the icy eyes.

He doubted help of any sort would arrive, and even if it did, the sick churning feeling in his gut let him know that it wouldn't make the slightest difference.

All it would lead to would be more deaths, more slaughter.

Because they were freaks of nature.

Had been since the canister had first broken and the mutagen had covered their backs.

Had been since the moment their eyes were truly opened to the world around them.

The world that hid its ugly monstrosities with the cover of beauty and compassion.

Compassion that instantly disappeared the moment something or someone different appeared.

The human's compassion that meant nothing when they encountered others of their species.

Because the skin tone colour was different.

Because they lived a different way from the first group.

Because others had something that they wanted.

Be it land, money, or for simple sport, the humans constantly fought, scrabbled, maimed, killed, tortured physical and mental, hounded, tore, destroyed…

Until nothing was left but their own greed, not caring who had been hurt in the process.

Not caring who had perished, be it animal or human.

Not caring, because he and his brother weren't like them, weren't human.

Not caring, because in their sick twisted world, lives were lost like raindrops from a cloud.

Not caring, because mutant turtles had no rights in the human's laws.

Not caring how much the creatures in front of them screamed, begging for mercy, pleading for release from the pain.

Not caring, because it was _fun_…

--

Sheesh. Well, what did you think? Every review is greatly appreciated! ;)


End file.
